


softer in it's tragedy

by SoDoRoses (FairyChess)



Series: Love and Other Fairytales [21]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Abuse, Domestic Violence, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships, Unreliable Narrator, because thats a thing no matter how much people like to pretend its not, having genuine feelings for your abuser
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-03-01 02:25:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18791104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/pseuds/SoDoRoses
Summary: A love song. A fairytale. A story of true love.This is none of those things, but Roman doesn't know that.Yet.





	softer in it's tragedy

**Author's Note:**

> the title is from Notes On Loving A Five-time Felon, by Desiree Dallagiacomo

A week after Roman made the worst mistake of his life under the hanging tree, he woke up to a knock at his window.

And that was… well, that was that, he supposed.

The mismatched eyes that looked at him through the glass were merely considering rather than hostile. When Roman unlatched and slid the pane up with shaking hands, the Serpent King didn’t come in, only leaned into the room slightly with his elbows resting on the sill.

“Well?” he said, amused, “Get dressed. Unless you’d like to leave in pajamas,”

Roman had the bizarre urge to laugh at the word “pajamas” coming out of the Serpent King’s mouth, which was how he knew he was probably already hysterical. He complied – might as well, what difference would it really make? – and only startled a little when the king offered him a hand as they climbed out the window.

“I- I didn’t think you’d come so soon,” said Roman, desperately trying to fill the silence with  _something_.

“And yet your gate was unlocked,” said the king lightly. He hadn’t let go of Roman’s hand, and he still didn’t as he climbed on to a waiting horse and lifted Roman effortlessly with him. Roman felt slightly dizzy.

He was sideways, sitting in front of the king, who looked down at him with a sly and flirtatious smile.

“I think you were waiting for me, Roman,”

The evening passed in a fast-paced blur – color and sound and music and always, always a firm grip on his hand or his wrist or the back of his neck. Later, Roman would barely remember any of it.

This is what he would remember.

The Serpent King stood, in the shadow of the trees in front of Roman’s house. Roman could barely believe what he was hearing – he got to keep everything, his whole life. The only thing the king asked was that he not tell his day self. Nothing would change at all.

It was too perfect. There had to be a catch.

“Why are you doing this?” Roman blurted, incredulous. The king could do anything he wanted – why the mercy, why the gentleness, why was he watching Roman in way that only half made him want to run?

The king hesitated, considering.

“I enjoyed kissing you,” he said simply, which made a blaze of heat flare up Roman’s neck. The king leaned down, so there was barely any space between them and Roman could feel his cool breath fanning against his face.

“This doesn’t have to be a hardship for you, you know,” said the king softly, “In fact, I would much prefer it if we were both enjoying it,”

This was a terrible, awful, atrocious idea that was almost certainly going to get Roman killed in some creative and very painful way.

But really – what alternatives did he have?

Raising his shaking hand, Roman tugged on the front of the king’s shirt, until the distance closed and their lips met.

* * *

In the weeks that followed, Roman felt more split in two every day.

Things that happened during the day became increasingly dim and hazy. Conversations eluded him, becoming only vague approximations, and the more unfamiliar faces – classmates and their parents mostly – became so indistinguishable that he wasn’t even sure he could name them if he was standing in front of them.

But the important people were still razor sharp with clarity, so when he opened the front door around three in the morning to find Mamaw sitting in front of the crackling fire, he knew exactly how much trouble he was in.

“So,” she said, “When, exactly, did ya plan on sharin’ yer new hobby with the class?”

“…Never,” he said quietly. He gave her a wan smile, “But I guess I should have known better,”

Mamaw huffed.

“And are ya gonna share why ya seem nervous as a long-tailed cat durin’ the day but perfectly content with yer lot in life at the moment?”

She didn’t react when he explained the split, merely nodded.

“Yer gonna need back up,” she said, “Its about time anyway. I put it off too long. Maybe this wouldn’t a’ happened if I hadn’t,”

“What are you talking about?”

“She’s talking about me,” said weary voice, coming inexplicable from the direction of his  _ankles_.

Roman looked down, tilting his head curiously.

“Hello, Roman,” said Dizzy, “Looks like you’ve gotten us all into quite the mess,”

* * *

Roman had a  _room_  now, in fairyland which was… weird.

He asked, maybe a little teasing, why the king had felt the need to give him one. The king had waved his hand noncommittally.

“Where else are you going to put your things?” he said, “It’s not as if you can take them back with you,”

He hadn’t seemed to want to talk about it, and Roman wasn’t so stupid as to push his luck. It was hard enough keeping his mouth shut on hunts, though the humans they came across seemed nearly like strangers, even when they recognized Roman. The king always plucked the memory of him away afterward, so Roman never did find out if they  _were_  strangers or not.

So yeah, he didn’t need to be grilling the king on his reasons for anything.

It turned out that he didn’t need to. The king left Roman to his own devices far more often than Roman would have assumed at the start of this arrangement. And, being the only human around, he made use of… “his” room to escape the crowds of gawking fae.

Apparently, that’s what the king intended to use it for as well.

The king laid across the strange half-bed, half-sofa piece of furniture in the far corner. When he made what could only be described as grabby-hands in Roman’s direction, Roman resisted the urge to giggle at him and crossed the room.

“Why do I feel like you had an ulterior motive in giving me this place?” he said quietly. It was already out of his mouth before he’d really realized that he definitely  _was_  teasing the  _Serpent King._

“Because I  _did,_ ” he drawled, amused. He tucked Roman up under his arm, and Roman could feel his breath ruffling Roman’s hair. “Nobody will think to look for me here, and I do on occasion want to be left alone, you know,”

Roman chewed a little on the inside of his cheek. He tilted his head back to look the king in the eye.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked.

The king seemed surprised by the question, and then his face turned unreadable.

“… No,” he said, and his voice was the softest Roman had ever heard it.

There wasn’t much conversation after that, and really not much conversation during any of the hours they spent in Roman’s room. And between that and the fact that the king really did keep giving Roman all manner of gifts to keep in their little sanctuary, to maintain the charade… well.

When he thought about it, Roman didn’t really have anything to complain about, did he?

* * *

“It’s nearly two AM,“ said Roman, "I do have to get at least some sleep, darling,”

The king smirked down at Roman, pressing a brief, casual kiss to his lips.

“One would think you were trying to escape me,”

Roman giggled, pushing slightly at his shoulder.

“Of course not,” he said, “But I’m pretty sure I have a test in the morning, and I fell asleep at like seven. I don’t want to give him a reason to get suspicious,”

The king made an expression that might have been called a pout on anyone else’s face. He sighed dramatically, turning back towards the crowd below them and waving his hand.

“Very well,” he said, “I won’t see you tomorrow, it’s the full moon. I don’t want the banshee’s brat getting a good look at you,”

Roman felt the familiar twinge of indignation on Logan’s behalf but he brushed it off fairly easy – especially when he felt like he hadn’t really even seen Logan in months. Roman leaned down and gave the king a parting peck, already turning away as he spoke.

“The day after tomorrow,” he said, “I’ll see you then, darling. Love you,”

He froze.

Roman covered his mouth in horror and embarrassment. He was still turned away, and he was hyper aware of the king’s gaze boring into his back.

Embarrassment, because he had no clue how the king would react to such a statement. Horror, because he hadn’t intended to say it – he hadn’t been acting. He’d  _meant_  it.

A bruising grip seized him around the bicep, and then he was being dragged down the steps and behind the curtain before he could really process it. The grip didn’t let up at all as the king spun Roman and pulled him in close, a wild look in his eyes.

“Say it again,” he said, his voice so quiet it sent shivers racing up Roman’s spine.

“I love you,” said Roman – he hadn’t even paused to deliberate.

A slow, delighted smile spread across the king’s face, and Roman felt his own mouth mirroring it before he could really stop it.

“I love you,” he repeated, unprompted, laughing a little. The king kissed him, and Roman said it again, back and forth over and over until Roman felt like his lungs were filled with pop rocks and his heart was helium-light and his king smiled at him like Roman was his favorite person in the world.

It was a long time before he went home.

* * *

Roman tapped anxiously on the leg of his pants. He knew it was around here somewhere, but he was pretty far out, and he was cutting a bit close on getting back into bed before the sun came up. Maybe it would be better if he came back tomorrow-

There.

Roman let out a sigh of relief. The longer they went, the more likely the magic would have lasting effects. Last time, he’d picked animals, and it had taken him  _weeks_  to track them down, and they’d gone a little funny even after he’d gone about getting them fixed.

But trees? Trees couldn’t escape.

He laid his hands against the bark of the nearest one, taking a deep, grounding breath.

“I know your true nature,” he said firmly.

The screaming was pretty standard, and Roman was used to it at this point. And he wasn’t the one  _experiencing_  the pain – the least he could do was keep a straight face.

The tree he’d touched was the mother then, who was shaking and pale and already scrambling back from Roman.

“See?” he said brightly, “That wasn’t so bad, was it? Could have been a lot worse,”

She didn’t respond. Roman gestured to her children and husband pointedly.

“You’d better get going,” he said, “I won’t be able to swing it twice. Just leave the camping stuff, it’s not worth it,”

She nodded, terrified. She scooped up two of the smallest, both of them sobbing, and her husband followed – he nodded at Roman in fearful thanks, and Roman smiled back sunnily.

As they hurried in the direction of the highway, Roman couldn’t help the tuneless whistle that came to his lips. He turned and began making his way back towards his house.

Not so bad at all. Everybody got their fun, and no lasting harm done. Everybody wins, right?

He didn’t really understand why, when he got home and Dizzy asked why he was late, she didn’t seem to agree with him.

* * *

“You are  _way_  too excited about my knife for a person who carries around a sword,” laughed Roman.

Bell scoffed.

“You are the  _only_  person I know who can touch cold iron, forgive me for being curious,”

“Your sword is enchanted, it’s leagues better than this thing anyway,”

“Call it honest curiosity,” she laughed.

“You sound like Specs,” replied Roman, “He’s always trying to figure out how stuff works,”

There was a scant pause, and Belladonna tilted her head.

“The changeling?” she said inquisitively.

Roman smiled, baffled, “Yes? He’s my friend,”

Bell got a vaguely alarmed look in her eye, glancing in the direction of the dais the king was sitting on.

“That’s… nice,” she said hesitantly. Roman leaned back, staring.

“What?” he said warily.

“Just…” she said slowly, “Don’t… say anything to the king about that, okay?”

Roman’s brow furrowed, a little offended.

“Why the hell shouldn’t I?” he demanded.

She gave him a slightly manic smile.

“I just wouldn’t if I were you,” she said quietly. Moving quickly, she stowed her whetstone in her pocket and fled before Roman could insist she elaborate.

A cool hand slipped across the back of Roman’s neck and his frown slipped away instantly. He tilted his head back, looking up at the king with a smile.

But the king wasn’t smiling.

He dug his fingers in, just this side of painful, and used the grip to direct Roman to the edge of the crowd, pressing him against a wall. Roman was vaguely alarmed, but mostly confused.

“What were you talking about with Belladonna?” the king demanded, his voice dark.

Roman did a bit of a double take.

“My knife?” he said, a faint laugh in his voice, “She’s never seen cold iron up close, she was curious,”

The king’s eyes bored into Roman, and a vague sense of trepidation began to creep up on him. The kings hand shifted from the back of Roman’s neck to the front, squeezing gently – Roman could still breathe, but he certainly wasn’t comfortable; his heartbeat picked up, and  _not_  in the good way.

“Who do you belong to?” hissed the king.

“You,” said Roman, a little hurt, “Of course, you. Who else?”

The tension hung in the air for a moment, and then the king smiled. Roman went nearly boneless with relief, instantly pressing himself up against the king and tugging gently on his shirt for a kiss.

_I just wouldn’t tell him, if I were you._

He wasn’t heeding the warning really. He just… didn’t have a reason to talk about it.

No reason at all.

* * *

Roman was surrounded but the smell of wood smoke and soft fabric, tucked under the king’s arm. His king had been suspiciously silent all evening (and really, for the past few days) but he’d been showering Roman in affection and gifts otherwise. Roman figured he couldn’t exactly be in trouble, so there was nothing to worry about.

The king had Roman’s hair wound around his fingers, combing through the locks gently, and even the occasional snag was soothing, sending little shivers through Roman’s shoulders. Each time Roman could feel the king break out into a small smile where his chin rested on top of Roman’s head.

“Sit up,” he said suddenly. Roman felt a little put out – he was very comfortable – but he didn’t complain as he obliged. The king sounded excited, and Roman was curious as to what had him so happy anyway.

The king sat up as well, sliding across the sheet to lean into Roman with a wicked smile.

“I grow weary of hearing you call me by titles,” he said without preamble. “I permit you to call me Dee, when we are alone,”

Roman’s eyes went as round as dinner plates. For a moment he didn’t react at all.

“It’s not my name,” said the k-  _Dee,_ “But something,”

He brought his hand up and fiddled with Roman’s hair.

“Maybe someday,” he said fondly.

And really, after that? Roman couldn’t be blamed for tackling him back into the bed.

* * *

Roman was on his way home, on an otherwise normal and unremarkable night, the first time White spoke to him.

She’d blinked into his path without any warning, startling him. He blinked up at her, long since accustom to all manner of strange fae appearances, so even though he’d never seen her before he wasn’t too discomforted by her appearance.

Until the hazy memory of a story, of a white hand print and a screaming child, clicked into place.

“Hello,” she said, quiet and faint. Roman, wary, didn’t respond for a moment.

“…Hello,” he said eventually. “Did you need something?”

She tilted her head. She was obviously looking at him, but it was hard to get a sense of her mood when her eyes were only a blank expanse of white.

“Do you know my godson?”

“Your godson?” said Roman, stalling, because if he accidentally brought her wrath back down on Patton he’d never forgive himself.

“Yes,” she said, looking away from him and staring, unseeing, into the trees. “Patton, son of Matty. I gave him the loveliest voice,”

“Might I ask why?” said Roman.

She turned back to him, sharp.

“I am forbidden to see him,” she said, and though her tone hadn’t changed Roman still got a sense of sadness. “Our king was unhappy that I gave him such a powerful gift,”

Roman wanted to protest at the designation of “gift,” but she was already continuing.

“But he was such a sweet boy,” she said, a little wistful, “So polite. He deserved it. My lovely boy,”

She shifted, and Roman realized she was  _nervous_.

“Is he happy?” she said faintly, “Does he like his gift?”

Roman hesitated, working his jaw back and forth.

“No,” he said, a little surprised at his own boldness. But he didn’t flinch at her unreadable expression. “Nearly everyone is afraid of him. He is very lonely,”

She nodded, like she wasn’t surprised.

“I watch him,” she said, “But I cannot speak to him. He compels himself to do things, when he is alone. You must tell him not to. It will make him sick,”

Roman was split between horror at the revelation that Patton deliberately used the curse at all, let alone on  _himself_ , and panic at trying to figure out how he could possibly get a message to Patton without tipping off his Day-Self. He opened his mouth to explain somehow, but she was already walking away.

“Such a sweet boy,” she said mournfully, “Such a pity. Such a waste,”

Roman reached out, calling for her to stop, but by the time the words left his lips she was already vanished, his hand hanging in the air between them.

* * *

Roman was in his own bed, flipping through a battered, ancient book of handwritten spells. It was boring work, and exhausting besides, but Roman couldn’t sleep anyway, and it never hurt to have a few surprises up your sleeve.

Dizzy was at the foot of the bed, and she’d been staring at him since he got home. Finally, Roman gave up, giving her an exasperated glare.

“What?”

He got the impression she was very unhappy, but she didn’t say anything at first.

“You’re humming,” she said after a long pause.

“So?” said Roman, shrugging.

“You seem very happy in general,”

“Oh no, what a nightmare?”

She licked one paw in a distinctly frustrated way and began to groom her ear. Roman shrugged; if she wanted to be cryptic and vague he wasn’t going to drag it out of her.

“Sometimes I wonder,” she said carefully, several minutes later, “If you remember that you are a prisoner,”

Roman froze halfway through the turning of a page.

“I’m- I’m not, really,” he said. Because he wasn’t. Except he was, a little, but not  _really_  because it wasn’t like he was being – tortured or something -

“A gilded cage is still a cage,” said Dizzy.

“But it’s okay,” said Roman, wondering why he sounded so pleading, “I don’t- I don’t  _mind_ , I love him! And he’s not hurting me,  _he_  loves  _me,_ ”

“Do you honestly believe that?”

“Of course!”

“Has he said it?”

The “yes” was on the tip of his tongue, but- no, he hadn’t.

“He doesn’t need to,” snapped Roman defensively, “I know. He  _shows_  me, he doesn’t have to say it out loud,”

Dizzy didn’t respond. She only sighed, before stretching and padding up the side of the bed, laying her soft, warm body along the side of Roman’s leg.

Somehow, Roman still didn’t feel like he’d won that argument.

* * *

Roman had both their hands held between them, trying hard to get the directions out in between his laughs.

“No, no, then it’s with the back of your hand,” he said, “Right after the first line ‘say, say, oh playmate,’ then you do it with the front and ba-”

Dee swooped in and kissed Roman firmly and Roman giggled, delighted. After another moment, he pushed Dee lightly in the chest squeezing the hand he still held.

“As I was  _saying_ ,” he continued, “It’s actually easier if you do it  _with_ the song, because you can match it to the beat. And you’ve got those fairy reflexes, so I don’t think it should be this difficul-”

Dee cut him off with another kiss and this time Roman huffed, fond and exasperated into his mouth.

He let go of Dee’s hands, cradling his face and pushing him away.

“You know you can’t just kiss me every time you want me to stop talking,” he said dryly.

The room became suddenly very quiet.

“Excuse me?”

Roman’s expression dimmed at the stormy expression on Dee’s face. He tried to restore his smile, stroking the other boy’s face, but Dee’s hand snapped out and grabbed Roman around the wrist, bruising and too tight,  _too tight-_

“Dee, darling,” said Roman soothingly, “You- you’re hurting my wrist a little, my love,”

Dee ignored him, and when he spoke his voice was low and deadly.

“Let me make this abundantly clear,” he said, “You don’t tell me what I can or cannot do. I can do what ever I want to you,”

Roman’s heart was in his throat, panic clawing in his ribs. He smiled, his voice shaking when he spoke.

“Of course,” he said, “Of course, I’m sorry, I don’t what I was thinking, but please, darling, my  _wrist-”_

“Who do you belong to?” Dee demanded.

“ _You,_  love, please, you’re  _hurting_  me-”

A clear  _snap_  rang through the air. All sound froze, and then Roman  _wailed._

The pain was over in barely a second, healed under Dee’s hand. Dee had pulled him in instantly, showering Roman’s face in soft kisses and running gentle hands over him. Roman was shaking, the phantom ache of his broken wrist echoing up his arm. He felt dizzy and incredibly nauseous.

“I didn’t mean to break it,” said Dee into his hair, “I forget how fragile you are, on occasion,”

He grabbed Roman’s chin, gently, but somehow Roman didn’t feel any better.

“You forgive me, don’t you darling?”

Roman swallowed, smiling. If Dee noticed the shiny glaze in Roman’s eyes, he didn’t mention it.

“Of course,” said Roman. “Of course I forgive you,”

And he did. It was an accident. It wouldn’t happen again – Roman was sure Dee would be more careful in the future.

It was just an accident.

* * *

If fae cornering him on his way home was going to become a trend, Roman was wondering if he should invest in some sort of alarm system so they didn’t just spook him every time.

It was a pixie this time, blue and winged and darting around his eye level in a distinctly nervous way. He might have confused them for a very large moth if they hadn’t spoken.

“Sir Roman,” they said softly, “I come with a question,”

“I have an answer, let’s see if they match,” said Roman dryly.

The pixie seemed delighted by the little joke, trilling in excitement. Roman couldn’t help the little smile in response.

“I have seen you, in the day,” they said, and Roman’s smile dropped, turning leery, “I trust you with our secret,”

“'Our’?” said Roman.

“We Seelie,” said the pixie, lowering their voice even though there was clearly nobody around, “We love our people of Wickhills – we bring them into our mushroom circles and dance with them, our lovely friends. But they cannot remember, or they would tell others, and the king would surely be furious,”

Roman narrowed his eyes.

“And why on earth are you telling me this?”

The pixie moved even closer, quieting again.

“I would ask of my favorite,” they said desperately, “My sweet Emily. I could hardly bear to let her go,”

Roman was seized with sudden fury. “Hardly bear to let her go” indeed – all Emmy’s friends stolen away from her, dropped seven years in the future, to too-old parents and surrounded by people who half-seemed strangers. Roman considered the merits of stabbing the pixie to a tree with his knife like a pinned butterfly.

“How is she?” the pixie pressed.

Roman took a deep inhale through the nose.

“Happy,” he said. “More so every day,”

 _Every day she gets further away from you,_ he thought, but didn’t say.

The pixie lit up like an LED, and Roman blinked the spots away from his vision.

“Oh wonderful,” said the Seelie, tumbling in the air. “I knew you would understand,”

The pixie swooped in, and Roman raised his hand in reflex, but the pixie went  _for_  his hand, kissing the knuckle in a move Roman had only seen directed at Dee.

“We Seelie give you our gratitude,” they said, before zooming off into the underbrush and winking out like a snuffed candle.

“Well,” said Roman to the open air, “I’m sure  _that’s_  not going to come back to bite me,”

* * *

It made no sense to Roman – he should be exhausted, with how little sleep he was actually getting. and yet it seemed like every night he returned from the fae, laid in his bed and stared, wide awake at the ceiling of his room.

Dizzy shifted next to him, her body a ball of nearly-burning warmth between his arm and his ribs.

“Can’t sleep?” she said quietly.

“…No,” said Roman, “As usual,”

She stretched, her spine clicking. She hopped up, sitting on his chest and looking down with him with her huge yellow eyes in the dark.

“We have to talk anyway,” she said.

“About what,” sighed Roman, already exhausted with this conversation.

“She’s nearly done,” said Dizzy flatly.

Roman’s stomach clenched.

“Are you sure?” he said faintly.

“It’s probably already done, actually,” replied Dizzy, “But she wants to be sure it’s big enough to qualify as a cloak,”

Roman didn’t say anything.

“You’re the only one who can get in,” pressed Dizzy.

“I  _know_ ,” he snapped, “I know, of course I know,”

“She won’t ask. You’ll have to offer,”

Roman swallowed, trying to block out the cloying emotions in his throat.

Long hours in afternoon sunlight, story after story, daydream after daydream. He’d wanted to wake Virgil for nearly half his life, and the idea that it was so,  _so_  close made his chest ache with longing.

But Roman already  _had_  a fairytale, a real one, not one he’d made up out of loneliness. He had his happy ending.

Didn’t he?

“You’re going to have to choose,” said Dizzy quietly.

“I know,” Roman repeated thickly.

It was a choice that should be easy, and yet Roman had never felt more unsure.

* * *

Roman cursed his luck – it was just his lot that the hunt had gone so far out of the way this evening. Roman would be hard pressed to rescue these mortals and get back to his house in time to change into pajamas and lay down before the sun came up. And it was unseasonably hot for the fall, so he was uncomfortable to boot.

He was deep, deep in the forest now, surrounded by trees so wide he couldn’t wrap his arms around them and shrub with strange flowers. He didn’t even realize he’ found the monsters resting place until he’d come out right on top of it.

Roman thanked all the stars that Mamaw had the foresight to teach him how to charm himself against it. He hated to think what would have happened to him if he’d come across it alone like this otherwise.

It didn’t seem to notice him, and Roman slowly began to back away. But then he caught on the noises it was making, and stopped short.

It was  _speaking_.

Mamaw had told him the creature was her grandmother, dead and senseless, but Roman hadn’t actually thought there was anything human  _left_  in it.  He’d never heard it make any kind of noise that even resembled speech.

 ** _Where is he?_** It wailed.

Roman heart clenched. He knew very well who the monster was crying for.

**_Where is he? She hid him. Where did he go? Where is my brother?_ **

Roman turned on his heel, fleeing, like he could outrun the clenching of his own heart. He hadn’t even realized he’d been thinking of the clearing, of  _Virgil_ , until he broke out of the treeline and found himself staring down at the crystal casket.

He let out a shaky breath, stepping closer. Just to look. Just a moment, and then he’d leave.

Virgil looked the same as he always had. Roman wondered, not for the first time, how much he could hear. If he knew Roman’s voice. If he’d heard Roman’s declarations of love and devotion, his promises to rescue him, someday, no matter what.

“Hey,” said Roman thickly. He laid one hand against the glass.

“What am I gonna do?” he sobbed.

There was no point in asking, really. Roman already knew the answer.

* * *

Roman couldn’t tell his Day-Self about his existence – but there were any number of things he could say that wouldn’t give his true identity away. He wrote out the poem with his left hand to disguise his handwriting. A simple message, vague enough that he wasn’t saying anything directly but, maybe he could figure it out himself. He slipped the walnut shell into his jacket pocket and hung it in it’s usual spot. It was a miracle he managed to get to sleep after that.

The next night he breathed a sigh of relief, but it was tempered with frustration. He had the vaguest memories of opening the shell, but he’d thought it was a threat, not a warning. But now at least he knew he could send messages without detection. He had options.

Mamaw somehow knew – she always did. When he returned from the fae, later than usual – he’d had a hard time getting away – she was still awake, the finished cloak laid across her lap, waiting for him.

She held it out, and he took it without speaking.

“I love you big bunches,” he said. Her mouth twitched into a smile.

“I love you big bunches too,” she said softly. “Bring him back here, okay? I can hide him,”

Roman nodded.

Dizzy followed him out the door, trotting along beside him.

“She doesn’t realize,” said Dizzy.

“Mamaw knows everything,” said Roman.

“He’ll kill you,” said Dizzy flatly, and Roman swallowed. “You know that. He won’t forgive you for betraying him. And she would never have given you the cloak if she understood that,”

Roman didn’t respond.

“You should have said goodbye properly,” said Dizzy sharply.

“Oh, shut up, hairball,” he said, and Dizzy politely didn’t comment on the shaking in his voice

Roman’s heart was beating so loud he was sure Virgil would be able to hear it the second he woke. Roman thought maybe he should say something, some kind of speech, but he had no idea what to say. Shaking his head to dispel the thought, he laid the cloak over the casket.

There was a deafening  _crack_  and a split in the glass stretched from one side to the other. Roman waited, but nothing else happened.

He waited longer and began to look worryingly at the sky. Maybe the glass had the enchantment. Maybe if he got it out of the way then Virgil would wake up.

But Roman hadn’t brought anything with him to break the glass – he’d assumed magic alone would be enough. The sky was just barely turning dark blue rather than black, and Roman, panicked, began to pull at the crack with his hands.

“Virgil? C’mon, you need to wake up now,”

He continued speaking and pulling at the glass a bit at a time, until he got a decent hole in the top. Virgil’s shoulder and head were freed, but he still wasn’t waking up. Desperate, Roman shoved the cloak under what was left of the glass, laying it on Virgil’s chest.

“Virgil? Rise and shine, Gloom Fairy, time to wake up,”

Nothing happened.

Shit.  _Shit_. Maybe it wouldn’t work. Maybe it had to be Greta.

The sky was fully dark blue now – there was probably only minutes until sunrise. With a shriek of frustration, Roman sprinted from the clearing.

He thundered up the porch steps, tracking mud behind him. Mamaw stood in the doorway of the kitchen, wild-eyed.

“ _W_ _here_  have you been?”

“It didn’t work,” gasped Roman, “Or it’s taking too long, and he can’t wake up in the clearing, I didn’t know what to do-”

“Get out of those clothes,” said Mamaw instantly, “Lay down at least, I’ll clean the floor. Desdemona and Jax will watch for him outside, he won’t get far without them knowing,”

Roman nodded, sprinting towards his room.

If Virgil did wake up, Roman’s Day-Self was going to wake up in the middle of this mess, and worse, he wasn’t even going to know it. Roman had to warn him somehow, but he didn’t have any  _time_ -

Grabber a loose marker from the bedside table and a book of fables from the bookshelf, he dove for the closet. He was going to wake up a mess, and he already thought he’d been threatened. His hunting things were the first place he would look, Roman was sure of it.

 _Death_  and  _Serpent,_ \- Day-Roman didn’t know about the monster, but he was almost certainly going to encounter it. Roman pulled the charm with his hair in it out of his pocket and set it in the pages.

He bit his lip, gnawing it, what could he say, what did he need to know-

_BETTER TO BE THE SNAKE THAN THE FARMER_

Day-Roman didn’t love Dee, Roman knew, but surely there must be _something_  of him in his Day-Self? Something left behind, a shadow of the real Roman. But he’d have to get close, and Roman couldn’t imagine  _not_  loving him.

And if there was  _anything_  of Roman in his Day-Self, betraying Dee was going to be the hardest thing he ever did.

* * *

The next time Roman opened his eyes, his heart went instantly to his throat.

Logan was right in front of him.

His eyes flitted around, matching up with the jumbled, hazy memories of his Day-Self. Patton and Logan, and there was Virgil, wide awake and looking intently at Roman with bright purple eyes.

Roman could feel his breath quickening. It was too much.

“Let go of me,” he said flatly, and Patton released him. Roman resisted the urge to burst into tears and beg him to come back.

He stood quickly, moving towards the kitchen. He couldn’t look at them.

How had he forgotten? How could he have not remembered this feeling, the way love felt when it wasn’t tinged with the aftertaste of fear? Roman could barely look at them, sure his heart was going to explode.

But this was it. The more the memories pieced together, the surer he became. It was over, Dee knew Virgil was awake – it was only a matter of time before he figured out that it was Roman who’d done it. Roman was going to  _die_.

And Greta hadn’t been soothed by giving her back her brother – Patton had gotten her calm, but Roman knew Dee had called her away from Logan’s house. The ring still worked, at least a little.

Which meant someone had to get the ring.

They’d followed him into the kitchen, and cold dread was pooling in Roman’s lower stomach.

He’d have to get close. He’d have to make sure Dee had no reason to be suspicious.

He picked them apart – dug his fingers into every weak spot he knew of, picked at every scab, until Patton cried and Logan’s face shone with fury and Virgil looked at him with barely-contained disgust. It was the last time he was ever going to see them, and  _this_  was what they would remember, and it made Roman want to tear his hair out but he  _had_  to sell it. 

Or it would all be for nothing.

* * *

Roman sat on the porch, taking measured breaths. Dizzy hopped up beside him from the bushes.

“Been to sleep?” she said quietly.

“Yeah, Dizzy,” he croaked. “What did you go after?”

He looked up, and he set the flower in her mouth across his foot.

“Geranium,” she replied.

Roman chuckled wetly.

“Protection against lightning strikes and snake bites,” he said, “Very fitting,”

Dizzy didn’t reply, looking off into the woods.

“It’ll be okay,” said Roman, “You’ll all be fine. You especially, it’ll be like a vacation not having to put up with me anymore,”

Dizzy sighed.

“There won’t be a ‘me,’ Roman,”

Roman’s face scrunched up. “What do you mean?”

“I was just a cat before I followed you into Virgil’s clearing,” she said, “I became More, the longer we were together. But when you die, I’ll just be a cat again,”

She bumped her head against his ankle.

“But it’s okay,” she said, though she didn’t sound okay at all. “You’re you. You can’t be anything else. I’ve always known I was going to outlive you,”

She didn’t give him a chance to respond, leaping into the bushes just as he heard the faint sound of hooves in the distance. He could feel how close the sunrise was.

If he didn’t make it, it was all over.

Quickly, he fumbled in his pockets, digging for something-  _there_.

He pulled the marker out, gripping it in his left hand and scrawling the last ditch message across his skin just as the hunt came into view. He stowed the marker, and smiled winningly at the incoming knights. Most of them cast him confused glances. Only Bell seemed unsurprised.

It took every ounce of his self control not to react as Virgil walked into the waiting knights. If they moved for the three of them, Roman knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself, it  _had_  to work.

And then one of the knights did move, but it wasn’t to threaten them.

Roman could have cried from relief. Of course Bell knew – she’d known the first time he’d ever mentioned one of them in front of her. She’d known he loved them even when he’d forgotten it himself.

It was a shame he’d never get to thank her properly.

* * *

The sky was nearly all blue now, the twilight so close to being over, and Roman felt like his chest was caving in. Dee was looking down at him, smiling, as Roman explained the knights betrayal. He was shaking, waiting for Dee to call him closer, becoming increasingly torn the longer he looked at him.

Dee clearly didn’t suspect anything. He trusted Roman – trusted him with part of his name, if not all of it, and what was Roman doing with that trust? Throwing it away for people he could barely remember and one he didn’t even know?

And yet, he’d been vicious to them – downright cruel. And they’d still come to check on him. Ask him if he was hurt, ask him if he was afraid.

What would Dee do, if Roman spoke to him like that? What was he going to do, when he found out what Roman had already done?

Dee summoned him up to the dais, and Roman slumped in relief. He was nearly sprinting up the steps.

Dee had never said he loved Roman. Nearly two years, and Roman had said it plenty, but Dee had never said it back.

Fae couldn’t lie.

But when Roman came over the edge of the platform, Dee was already turning towards him, arms held out. His face was shining, and his smile was genuine and yes, Roman knew that Dee didn’t love him, but Roman loved  _Dee_ , even if it was a love that was half terror sometimes. The second he saw Dee’s face, Roman’s resolve crumbled, and he knew he couldn’t do it – even if Dee killed him for it, Roman could never betray him.

And then the world went gray at the edges, and Roman was gone.

* * *

With the softest whisper of “Dee?” on his lips, Roman woke up

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, gonna be real - theres only one more part in the main storyline, but it might be a hot minute before i get it out, because this is easily the most emotionally draining 7000 words i've ever cranked out in my life and i'm still shaking a little bit as i type this. I havent started the next part yet so im not sure but. yeah.


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